


Not much of a proposal

by penny_archer



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Romantic Fluff, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), just too much goddamn fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny_archer/pseuds/penny_archer
Summary: “Why, yes,” he answered easily. “What were you expecting us to do with ourselves for the rest of forever, if not spend it together?”“Ngggk,” Crowley gawked at him, clearly caught off guard.“Unless you had other plans, of course,” he added primly.---It's three weeks after the world didn't end and Aziraphale and Crowley need to talk about their feelings. Featuring one half-assed proposal and one set of cottage keys.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 139





	Not much of a proposal

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cottage keys](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478410) by [penny_archer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny_archer/pseuds/penny_archer). 



> This is really just a self-indulgent rewrite of a fic I wrote a while ago, because I:  
> 1\. realized that Aziraphale would never take a step back from his bookshop, and  
> 2\. have been floored (inspired?) this last year by my partner's nonchalance suggesting major relationship steps after avoiding even talking about them for years. *
> 
> Come find me on tumblr if you'd like: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/penny-archer

“What do you want to do today, angel?”

Aziraphale looked up from his book at his companion lounging next to him on the grass. The demon was propped back on his elbows, legs outstretched and staring absently at the duck pond. It was a warm afternoon at St. James’ Park and Crowley was wearing a rather tight short sleeve black v-neck with his suit jacket folded neatly beside him. Aziraphale watched him for moment as he thought. “We could go to the Tate Modern, we haven’t been there yet,” he volunteered.

The demon pulled an exaggerated face. “Angel, you’ve been dragging me around museums and galleries and ar-bor-et-ums for days. Let’s do something _exciting_. Let’s steal a double decker and go for a joyride. We’ll take it back, obviously,” he added with an eye roll after catching Aziraphale’s expression.

“I think museums are exciting,” the angel huffed quietly.

They had been together since they left dinner at the Ritz the night after near-Armageddon. Aziraphale had thought at first that it was just because they were both still on edge, still afraid that if they let the other out of their sight they might not see them again. But it had been nearly three weeks now and they both seemed unwilling to part. They both seemed equally unwilling to discuss this state of affairs. Similarly unmentioned was the hesitant progression of their physical relationship: it began with handholding on the bus ride back from Tadfield that night, followed by more handholding that had slowly escalated to a few cuddles and one delightful if chaste kiss the previous night, after which Crowley awkwardly muttered something about beauty sleep and went up to bed. Terrifying as it all was, Aziraphale would be lying if he said he wasn’t eager for more. He knew that they needed to talk at some point, but every time he tried he found himself struggling to find the words. Six-thousand-year-old habits die hard, he supposed. And for the life of him he didn’t understand why Crowley, speed demon that he was, had not brought any of this up yet.

Returning to their present quandary, Aziraphale reflected that, after staying shuttered in at one or the other’s flat for the first week or two, in recent days they had in fact spent a fair amount of time touring around the city’s culture and arts scene. And, of course, some of its most noteworthy restaurants. The angel admitted to himself that _perhaps_ it was Crowley’s turn to choose their day’s itinerary. Within reason. “Very well then,” he asked graciously, “what would you like to do this afternoon?”

His companion seemed taken aback at the question. “Oh—well—besides the bit about the bus…eh…” he scrunched up his face and trailed off uncertainly.

Aziraphale permitted himself a small sigh. “Well, since you don’t _actually_ have a suggestion, do you have any real objection to exploring the Tate Modern? I hear they have an excellent new Huguette Caland exhibition.”

“Oh, go on, just let me think for a moment, angel. I’ll come up with something.”

“Is this what you want our lives to be like from now on?” Aziraphale asked, exasperated. “Spending all morning bickering about what to do that afternoon—for the rest of eternity? Really, my dear, the thought of it.” He frowned, staring at the ducks paddling lazily across the pond. After a moment he glanced at Crowley, only to see the demon staring back at him with one eyebrow cocked, giving him a familiar look that was half-incredulous, half-smitten. “What?” Aziraphale demanded.

“The _rest_ of _e-ter-ni-ty_?” Crowley enunciated with a lopsided grin.

 _Christ on a cracker!_ Aziraphale could have kicked himself. He glanced again at the demon, who was still grinning like a madman. _Well, no time like the present_. He took a moment to compose himself before plowing forward.

“Why, yes,” he answered easily. “What were you expecting us to do with ourselves for the rest of forever, if not spend it together?”

“Ngggk,” Crowley gawked at him, clearly caught off guard.

“Unless you had other plans, of course,” he added primly. _Now then, that wasn’t especially difficult after all._

“Wh—I mean—n—ngggk,” Crowley stammered.

“My dear,” Aziraphale said patiently, now starting to thoroughly enjoy himself, “I believe it is traditional to respond to what is essentially a marriage proposal with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ Or some related sentiment.” Crowley glared at him, dumbfounded. Aziraphale stared back, eyes wide and expectant with a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You bastard,” Crowley said, finally recovering his powers of speech.

“That’s not very kind,” he reprimanded. “Or clear, for that matter. Is that a yes?”

“‘Is that a’—angel--‘ _is that a yes_?’” Crowley sputtered. “Damn it—bless it— _of course it’s a yes_ , for Hell’s sake--” he spit out. When the angel’s expression wavered briefly, he softened. He sat up and grabbed Aziraphale’s clasped hands in both of his own. “Of course it’s a yes, angel,” he repeated quietly.

“Oh, splendid,” Aziraphale beamed, leaning in to kiss him softly. Crowley followed him as he pulled away, prolonging the kiss for an extra moment. 

“Hmph.” Crowley laid back again, propped up on his elbows in a passing semblance of nonchalance but not quite succeeding at hiding his smile. “Not much of a proposal, that. Would have expected a bit more from you, angel. Great big diamond ring. Live string quartet. Or some flowers, at the very least.”

“Well I don’t know about all that fuss. To be honest, I had _assumed_ you would be the one to broach the subject of the future. I’m surprised you haven’t yet, these last couple weeks. It all seems a bit slow for you.”

“A bit slow? _A bit_ _slow_?” Crowley gaped. His face contorted through a series of emotions, passing through shock and indignation to hover briefly on fury before resigning itself to mirth. The demon threw back his head and cackled. He rummaged around in his too-tight pants pockets for a moment and casually tossed something into the angel’s lap. “Been carrying those around for the last nineteen days straight, angel. Weellllll, off and on for years, truth be told. _A bit slow_.” He snorted.

Aziraphale picked up the set of keys, staring at them with wonder. “What are these, Crowley?” he asked, inspecting them closely.

“House keys, obviously. Well, not a house exactly. More of a cottage. Cottage keys,” he sniffed.

“Wha—Where?” Aziraphale choked. His eyebrows furled. “What?”

Crowley’s expression faltered slightly. “Er, ‘s nothing, really. Just a little cottage in the South Downs,” he shrugged. “I was in the area a while ago after that business with the Olympic dressage team, happened to pass by this little place and saw it was for sale. I thought, well, stone wall, lovely big garden, outdated furnishings, Aziraphale would love it.” He swallowed and shot a glance in the angel’s direction that went largely unnoticed. Aziraphale’s attention was still centered on the small keyring in his hand as a mixture of complicated feelings rattled around his chest. Crowley pressed on. “Not asking you to move there permanently or anything, mind. Just a nice getaway for a holiday, maybe the summer. Wouldn’t dream of asking you to leave the bookshop.” Crowley attempted a sardonic smile that Aziraphale didn’t fully register. His cool veneer visibly cracking, the demon rambled on. “And we could move in together here, if you wanted. Cohabitate. That is, if you like.” he finished lamely.

Aziraphale was still focused on the keys clutched in his hands, his mind racing but somehow also a bit sluggish. A heavy silence stretched between them for a long moment. Crowley sat up, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them protectively. He stared straight ahead, expression unreadable.

“ ‘S too much, isn’t it? Yup,” Crowley scrubbed at his face and popped the ‘p’ dramatically. “I mean, you did basically just ask me to be your immortal life partner, but this is probably a bit rushed. Bit too domestic,” he grimaced. “Pastoral, even. Forget I said anything.” He looked like he was about to spontaneously combust when the angel finally spoke.

“Darling, did you say years?” Aziraphale could feel his eyes going misty.

“A couple. Well, maybe a decade or two,” Crowley admitted. His words hung in the air for a moment. He unfolded his limbs and grasped the angel’s hand again, his voice gentle as he met Aziraphale’s gaze. “Please, angel. We don’t need to go anywhere or do anything right away. It’s no rush. Whatever pace you need, we have all the time in the world. I just want to spend it with you.”

When Aziraphale spoke, his voice was thick. “Have I not made myself clear? No, I suppose I mustn’t have. That’s all I want, too. And I would be delighted to live together. I love you, you wily old serpent.”

He cupped Crowley’s chin in his other hand and leaned in again for a kiss. This time, Crowley melted into him completely. He deepened the kiss and the angel shifted his hand to rest along Crowley’s jawline, brushing his fingertips into his hair at the nape of his neck. After a minute or two the angel remembered they were at a public park and he should at least pretend to be self-conscious about this sort of thing. He pulled back slightly.

Crowley mumbled something that sounded like _‘mm luvyoutoo_ and sniffed, trying his best to look cool and casual as he wiped his eyes. Aziraphale nestled in closer and rested his head on the demon’s shoulder. Crowley put his arms around him reflexively and they lay back together on the grass.

After a minute, Aziraphale broke the silence. “Well, I for one think a trip to the South Downs this weekend is in order. I want to see this lovely big garden for myself. And as for the furnishings, well, I’ll be the judge of whether they’re outdated. Although I’m sure I’ll want to change them anyways when we move in; there’s simply no accounting for taste with some of these old country houses.” He turned his head to see the grin spreading across Crowley’s face. He beamed. “And Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Just to be clear, that was a yes to my question? You’ll marry me, dearest?”

“Yes, for Hell’s sake, Aziraphale, of course it’s a yes.”

“I thought as much, but one does want to be absolutely clear about this sort of thing.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Just so ‘one may be absolutely clear,’ angel,” he growled, “I’m all in. For whatever sappy, mundane, human things you want. Flowers and fairy tales and honeymoons in Hawaii. No churches,” he clarified quickly. “But otherwise, anything you want. We can get married and live happily ever after.” His flippant tone faded when Aziraphale hummed contentedly and nuzzled closer. “I’m all in,” he repeated gently. “Although,” he smirked, “I’m still waiting on that ring. Honestly, angel, what kind of proposal doesn’t include a ring?”

“Well, you didn’t get me one either,” Aziraphale pointed out with a slight pout.

“I bought you a cottage!”

“And I’m delighted! But it’s hardly traditional to present your betrothed with cottage keys. And I want to do this right, the human way.”

“All right, angel, all right,” Crowley conceded, laughing. “I’ll get you a ring.”

“Oh, marvelous.”

They lay for another moment, just breathing together. “Well then, that’s settled,” Aziraphale announced, satisfied. “We will go see the cottage this weekend and then we will figure out the rest from there.”

“Sounds perfect,” His companion— _his fiancé_ —murmured, pressing his face into Aziraphale’s soft curls. Then he sprang abruptly to his feet and turned to offer Aziraphale a hand up. “And in the meantime, angel,” he declared, “let’s go and see about this Ms. Caland.”

**Author's Note:**

> * For example, after several years of us dancing around our 'friendship' when I hung out with her family because she isn't out to all of them (which, understandable, that shit's complicated), just when I was starting to get comfortable with the idea that we weren't going to be a 'regular' couple in their eyes and that was just The Way Things Were Going To Be, she casually invited me to spend Christmas with them. LIKE IT WAS NOTHING. 
> 
> Oh and she invited me to move in with her, something she had consistently skirted around discussing. Queer relationships are strange.
> 
> And now we're buying furniture together. I love her so goddamn much.


End file.
